Comes And Goes Like The Wind
by TheMusicalPoet
Summary: "As if forever had not yet begun." A 10 part poem cycle portraying Rhett's feelings/actions post-GWTW. Some parts kind of read like prose, if you don't love poetry. I put a lot of heart and soul into this, so please read and let me know what you think!
1. The True Heart

**Dear Readers: Welcome! Here, you have stumbled across a collection of poems I made that form a story documenting Rhett's feelings/actions post-GWTW. I spent a lot of time on these - much longer than I normally take with my usual stuff. For those of you who don't love poetry, some of these kind of read like regular prose (IMHO). This is part one (there are four more poems to come in part two). Please R&R. Don't be afraid to let me know what you think! Love to you all! ~themusicalpoet**

I. The True Heart

If, when that door closed, my lady sought death,  
I could never know, for too far gone was I  
Down the path to my homeland to stand  
In watch of that place; for flames! To sit and cry

In the fog. Misty air and and misty eyes cast to the house  
Where I held my child - my children - and watched them die,  
Myself powerless to change the course of fate;  
Against feeling enchantment abate and enduring the sting of a lie.

O, how I choked then on words I had never spoken!  
Rendered mute for fear of never hearing the three I most desired:  
Words that would fall like light poured out of heaven  
From the red lips of my lady; words which her love for me inspired.

I coughed and cried myself hoarse in post-war shadows  
Of poor, mystified Atlanta; at the city trying half-heartedly to console  
Her dear Rhett, his madness her flag at half mast  
For the death of the Old Ways, for which his love took the toll.

Even so, I would tell my cruel vixen that she hath no charms  
For this renegade soul; I do not care for her selfish art,  
And yet as I turned and to Charleston stole  
I felt love yet stirring in my true heart.


	2. Damning Evidence

II. Damning Evidence

I never planned on returning so soon-  
I was there on business, to be sure, but of what sort, I cannot tell-  
And I would not have confessed this if, in passing,  
I saw my lecherous Southern belle.

I did see her, my Scarlett, but she did not see her husband  
So carefully concealed, holding fast to his gold ring,  
For even then my little bird was held captive to my matrimony  
And would so stay, though she might never sing

Again. I saw through restless eyes her placidity  
And acidity towards her friends (the ones who lived  
And stayed). The weak angel sat alone  
On a bench of stone, no courage left to give

The matter of her situation: lost and afraid  
Without the Old South - or was it me?  
And then I thought I discerned in her pretty face  
The unwilted petals of a love so freshly bloomed,

And tears on her cheeks like sparkling dew,  
Not possibly shed for all our Confederacy lost.  
Then I wondered that she might have left it all behind  
For another chance at this cad; whatever the cost.

What heavier burden could I have taken on in my heart,  
Already so laden with fighting hurt that no retribution could quell  
My unrest? Surely no evidence could further damn a sinning man  
To a lifetime of empty beds and an eternity of welcomed hell.


	3. Three Hundred and Sixty Five Tears

III. Three-hundred And Sixty-Five Tears

How little it was changed, the house I built with ill-gotten gold.  
As promised, I came back to see the wretched past  
And whether it had altered any. Familiar faces across the field,  
They did not see me. And then I spied her at last.

So she had not left Atlanta. But what pleasure was there for her here?  
My God! so pale and thin, and moving ever so slowly  
To the gate, the garden, the river; eyes so downcast, overcast.  
She did not see me, and I had never seen her look so lowly.

But I stayed hard as stone - I had to be - for I was so bent  
On mending my self-respect: I would never again let anyone crush me,  
Use me, no matter the pleasure; no matter the lust. No!  
This slovenly caricature of my former goddess could never be

The idol I once adored. And those virescent eyes would never see  
The pathetic visitor come to claim back his wasted life.  
Surely the agony upon her face compared not to the torturous months  
Endured by this man who has endeavoured to get over his wife.

But as, when she bent to caress the stream, and a tear yet fell,  
So too did one escape my eye - but then I could hardly say why!  
A year of careful sobriety, each day a blessing in disguise,  
Could hardly perish at the sound of one anguished sigh!

Yet, there we were, two wounded animals quietly howling at  
Three-hundred and sixty-five moons, and only one sun:  
Present in the lachrymose expressions of our estranged lovers,  
Trapped in a sylvan madhouse as if forever had not yet begun.


	4. She's Gone Away

IV. She's Gone Away

_Be still my trembling heart, be still!_ I, to myself, chastised  
As I set foot upon the familiar soils of Atlanta. _  
Be still,_ _And know you are here in strength - not in weakness,_ _?  
To ensure that what is yours is safe. So go forth and have your fill_

_Of that sweet sought after satisfaction. _No word heard I  
From that grandiose tomb where Scarlett was known to dwell.  
No word of any sort, for want of money, or a divorce, nor of the news  
That I soon learned upon arrival: the mansion was put forth to sell!

And from my usual hiding place I spied a noble family,  
Eating where she ate, playing where she played,  
And living on the land where we lived out our sweetest and worst days.  
Now, so disappointed, my heart could hardly be staid!

"You, mist', sir! Why ah' you hyah?" heard I, and so shot around,  
Guilty of only surprise, and not being astute in my attempt to be kept unseen,  
For I had stepped into the clearing to see in detail those new inhabitants  
And so had been caught by an intrepid negro; a man quite tall and lean.

"Why, I came to see Mrs. Butler," I spoke with feigned elegance,  
And was met by a confused expression. Answered he:  
"She don' gon' moved bek tuh Tara, suh. You bes' be luhkin' thar."  
And for this information I thanked him, and promptly went to flee.

It was foolish, of course, to never write. But I was yet determined  
That I should not dignify my ill-treatment with any written interest.  
Still, that she and they would take their leave, and, despite my two years  
In absentia, bereave me of any regard did not sit well in my breast.

_So Scarlett, _thought I, _this year I will not see you. Tomorrow I will go_ _  
To London to indulge in life's second best pleasure:_ _  
Other women. And though they are not the child I met in the dreamy Georgia  
Of yesteryears, they will smile at me and know naught of my mismeasure._


	5. The Ghost of Tara

V. The Ghost of Tara

The winding road upon which I trod was dark and obscured  
By the sun's setting in combination with a thick blanket of stormy clouds.  
Here I stood, apathetic and unaffected, waiting just  
To see where had gone my fortune. There, in shroud,

Stood Tara, albeit proud, in the unnatural dim, with soft lights  
Flickering in several windows. Inching closer, I saw  
How time had aged her; left her verdured, concealed by  
Hedges and vines, the damage of her yet visibly raw.

Leaning casually against a woodpile, or fence, I was certain:  
_I will remain unseen here in night's cloak, _though I lamented  
That I could not myself see things better; that I could not see any inhabitants.  
For all the obscurity, the place was simply distorted, demented.

And then, a sound! I started, crouching low, trying to still my beating heart.  
It was none but a servant (I could not tell who), the fool to be out!  
To my indifference, all seemed well upon the modest land,  
And with all my answers sought, I was left to be off and so turned about-

Then suddenly, my heart was in my throat! A figure was moving  
In the distance across the field, faint and white, almost Imperceptible.  
It was logic that dictated my chiding chuckle,  
But I am ashamed to say at once I thought she was a ghost.

_Why, Scarlett! _thought I, half with concern and half with impatience, _  
What brings her abroad in the night, like some delirious field hand_ _Chasing after awol goats.  
She might as soon catch her death of cold,_ _  
And, however uncaring was I of her love, I cared to have my investments stand!_

And so, perhaps out of habit, I heaved myself over the fence  
And dashed towards the traipsing, silver apparition. But in my crossing,  
After no more than a few hurried steps, I stopped dead in the wake  
Of Ashley Wilkes, sodden and tired. I stood my ground, stony-faced for a shield.

We stood for many moments, silent and perplexed, and very likely  
Both convinced that we had now before us _two_ unwelcome spectres.  
"Damn all eternal life_," _I muttered, and Mr. Wilkes stood quite embarrassed,  
As sure as we both seethed with hatred borne of our like conjectures.

"Captain Butler," he stammered. "It is, er- that is your Mrs. Butler over yonder."  
I felt my eyes set ablaze and said: "She is not mine, Ashley Wilkes, but she neither  
Belongs to this wretched night." He then begged my help without further question,  
And, as she fell weakly thence in her isolation, he implicated her raging fever.

She had suffered long, and I saw it plainly in her waxy complexion  
As we carried her slender form into the lamplight. Age had only begun to touch  
Her wearied face, with the faintest of lines around her eyes - perhaps for want  
Of laughter. But whatever regret I sensed then could not have mattered much.

"Mis' Scarlett!" I heard as I turned to see Mammy stumbling in to view.  
"Mis' Scar-," and then she stopped cold, stunned to see me on that porch.  
Ashley merely froze, quiet with anxiety as Mammy struggled for words.  
"Mammy," I said, "Three years, and more, is a long time to carry a torch,

"I assure you here ends the duration of my stay, for I came only to be assured,  
Out of courtesy, that those who bear my name are well, or a least well-tended.  
I beseech you both to speak naught of my visit, for it will only raise questions,  
And the worst for us, at times, is to open old wounds so practically mended."

I bid the astonished pair farewell, but not before glancing at the fainted waif. _  
Scarlett, O Scarlett, you are still one my old habits, and I feel you still as mindlessly.  
And so_ _You have taken up your Ashley and withered away to Tara, so I am sure you will be_ _  
Well soon. Until next time, you fool, until next time - you will haunt me wherever I go._

I could scarcely register the steps I took to deliver me from that strange, eerie place.  
Age, time, and separation; love, hate, and devotion ensured that soon I will have returned,  
For it has become easier to do so with each passing year, and I can only assume, as an homage  
To my old self, and to my old love, that, for all our suffering, safekeeping is the least that we have earned.


	6. A Little Fall of Rain

VI. A Little Fall Of Rain

Several days back, I saw the date  
And thought upon the years of late;  
My daring endeavours to spy upon  
The girl I loved in days now gone.

It is not hard to catch the news  
Of the merry life of my faded muse  
Through grapevines, letters, talk and such;  
I have learned she is not lacking much-

Or so they say, but who can trust  
Those say what they feel they must?  
Despite the clash of the last year's spree,  
I felt I had to go and see

Tara, that place that strangely holds  
For me, sweet memories amidst her folds.  
Even as my love grows cold,  
I cannot quit those thoughts of old.

So it was to Tara I'd go  
To see for myself what I wouldst know,  
And on that evening, my spirits were high,  
Despite the heat and the raining sky.

To walk with leisure along that road  
To where did sit that nostalgic abode  
Felt quite akin to happier days  
Before I'd begun these brash forays.

I'd fain have kept on, but that I heard  
A young voice singing idle words.  
I stopped and saw through the sylvan shade  
None other than beloved Wade!

I froze, by instinct, to watch the scene  
Of the young boy fishing in the stream,  
And quite oblivious to the rain,  
Going about his happy strain.

I should have crouched before he saw  
But heard him gasp a breathy draw,  
"Rhett!" called he as he dashed forth,  
My heart then feeling the moment's worth,

For I so loved him in times long gone,  
And this the first since I'd moved on  
That we'd the chance to solitarily meet;  
Since to his mother I'd claimed defeat.

"Yes, Wade, it's me!" I said, feeling my smile,  
And we stayed embraced for just a short while.  
His face revealed his question and concern,  
And a fair bit of torment, from what I could discern.

"Son, it must be," said I with a sigh,  
And he nodded, although I thought he might cry  
For Wade was young; a boy of fifteen,  
And had always been sensitive, and emotively keen.

"Mother is well," he managed at last,  
And I felt my relief as my heart thudded and thrashed,  
Though be sure this was fairly against my strong will,  
It is foolish to think I could love the girl still!

"What else, my boy?" I said with feigned poise,  
And he swallowed rather hard (for I heard the noise!)  
"She is often quite strict, if her spirits are low,  
But why they should falter, there's no hope to know."

I wondered at this as he relayed all his news  
When suddenly, behind him, I caught sight of my muse-  
My former one, that is-so be sure that I fled,  
And left poor dear Wade, as still as the dead.

When he'd caught on, he turned right around  
And greeted his mother, bending low to the ground.  
"I am glad I've found you!" Scarlett said in a fret,  
Her skirt caked with dirt and her tresses all wet,

"It's no time for fishing! Let's go on home."  
But Wade did not care to be told where to roam,  
"I am old enough, mother, and I'm feelin' no threat,  
And besides, I have seen him! I saw uncle Rhett!"

At this I did start, and then slyly surveyed  
Scarlett's white face as she stared hard at Wade.  
No flicker, no falter, no delicate gasp!  
She merely pulled Wade into a motherly grasp.

"Why, Wade, my poor son! You're taking on sick!  
Such phantoms are tyrants, so come home now. Quick!"  
And she wrapped him up warmly in the cloak off her back  
And kissed his face softly before recovering her track.

(At this, I must say, I was proud of the brat:  
My Scarlett, a mother! And a good one at that!)

I watched them sink deeper into the darkening wood,  
And saw Wade's eyes looking back to the place where we'd stood.  
My emotions felt stunned, to have been standing so near  
The family I'd lost for four staggering years.

The rain came on harder now, mixing with tears,  
_I couldn't still love her! _I said, fraught with fears,  
But then, what a vision could set my heart free:  
My Scarlett also turned her head back to see.


	7. Happy Anniversary

VII. Happy Anniversary

Dear Scarlett: I am drunk, but pray, do not think  
I cannot recall what all has come to pass!  
For though I am tottering down the road to Tara,  
I recall you, cruel vixen, and me, the poor ass.

It is nighttime, and there are no people about  
But those I left behind in the town.  
And now it is time to receive my yearly due;  
For this pickled king to take his crown.

So through the trees and onto the path,  
I must have stumbled one or two times,  
But tonight I've no care for clean presentation  
As being besotted is the least of my crimes.

I am a scoundrel; a rogue of the flesh,  
And I never let up as I'm governed by greed.  
Or love? No, no! It's no matter of heart;  
It's no matter of love; no matter of need.

We were the same, my darling; my pet!  
But you were too blind to see it my way.  
And then, by confession, you used me again,  
Nothing you said could have compelled me to stay!

Beyond me now rises the grandeur of Tara;  
Grandiose, but showing her age and her wear.  
With a hiccough, I laugh to perceive that not all  
Is perfect in the realm of my torturer's lair.

Bolder than before, I creep to the porch  
And through a window I audaciously peer:  
Not a soul, not a servant, could therein be spied,  
But the absence of Ashley aroused silent cheer.

For indeed I had heard that Ashley was gone;  
He'd only been there when she'd taken on ill,  
And now, it is said, he lives with Aunt Pitty,  
For her safety, in Atlanta, likely against his will.

The poor sap! He must love her!  
But she can't understand,  
And now he has no choice -  
He simply cannot ask her hand,

_For Scarlett is mine!_ I chuckled to myself,  
But then felt a catch in my throat._  
Alas, we're so alike!_ and so my heart bled  
For the man, though he always got my goat.

And it was only just a year before  
That I hid in the trees and she looked my way  
Hoping, I think - But no, I can't say that:  
I do not love her! I cannot sway.

And should anyone have seen what I did next,  
Of embarrassment I surely would have died,  
For I fell to my knees at the crack of my heart,  
And as sure as I loved her, I cried.

I learned later on when I'd gone back to town  
That the family of Tara had left in the night  
To visit Carreen at the convent abroad,  
Thus putting an end to my annual rite.

So sitting at the bar, I lifted my glass  
To the Lady of Green, of Rhett, as of Tara._  
Happy anniversary, my dear,_ I whispered aloud,_  
To the immortal Scarlett O'Hara._


	8. She Moved Through The Fair

VII. She Moved Through The Fair

She turned her face up to me  
Insisting that she did not mind,  
Nor did our acquaintances,  
That our joining was so unrefined,  
And she touched me so lovingly  
That I did not hear her say  
That she had never been so happy  
As on our wedding day.

And as she turned from me  
To move through the crowd,  
I felt the depth of my love,  
My heart swelling and proud.  
And then she turned homeward  
And I followed in her wake  
Like two swans in the evening  
Moving over a lake.

Then as suddenly as I heard them say  
"No better pair was ever wed,"  
I learned she never loved me,  
Though as much she never said.  
And one day, smiling, she left me  
And she shed a secret tear,  
And that was quite the last  
That I saw of my dear.

Last night my darling came to me  
In ghost form she came in  
So softly did she enter  
That her feet made no din.  
And she touched me so lovingly  
That I did not hear her say  
That she had never been so happy  
As on our wedding day.

~GWTW~GWTW~GWTW~

"Scarlett!" I cried when I woke,  
Afeared and trembling with sweat,  
"Scarlett, I am sorry. I miss you!  
Please comfort your darling Rhett!"  
I lay weeping in blueish twilight  
As I fought to regain my head:  
Scarlett was not with me,  
But Scarlett was not dead.

By sunrise I stared blankly  
At my hand upon the sheets  
And calmingly I counted  
My heart's slow, staggering beats.  
I felt then the gravity of age;  
Myself, a wreck of a soldier,  
And though Scarlett too was aging  
Still, how I longed to enfold her.

The visions had been a dream;  
Just spectres of night's refrain.  
Never did she love me  
Or leave me in such pain,  
But how the sorrow hit me  
When at once she disappeared,  
How could she ever do that?  
It was everything I feared!

And then I came to see:  
It was I who took the leave!  
Though I'd declared that I was happy  
I left her there to grieve.  
I sailed off on a bitter cold wind  
And was sure all suffering was mine,  
But in truth we suffered in silence  
And were bereaved of any mutual sign.

I noted then the passing of the date  
I had reserved to go out to her yearly.  
The distance, though cruel, must have revealed  
How much I missed her so dearly.  
So I left for Tara, and stopped in the city  
And found my task earlier complete  
For I saw my lost bride and her beauty  
Move along the bustling street.

To my amazement the crowd seemed to freeze  
As my heart danced in time with her gait,  
I delighted at the sight of her face:  
Pink of cheek and salubrious trait.  
I made certain that she could not see me  
As I stood, captivated, to stare:  
How magically time seemed to stand still  
As she gracefully moved through the fair.

(R&R please! Sorry I took so long! More to come!)


End file.
